A ‘selfless’ shot. Someone had been looking someone up. That was—it was healthy, right? People looked up pictures of the boys they liked? The blood and battle damage was weird but I could almost, sort-of, kind-of understand that working in a way that made the image more visceral?

I didn’t pry, I didn’t go looking for more images, and I didn’t comment. I found the search box, dialing into messages. “Messages, yep.”

“Yeah. Dial into Vista, recent?”

I did. Each ‘dial’ reduced and sorted the messages. “Some catch-up, briefing style stuff on the Amy situation. Nothing else.”

“No messages from Capricorn?”

“No.”

“Shit. Hoped he gave us some pointers.”

“We could call.”

“Better not, if they catch us asking it looks bad,” Vista said. “Okay. Grab this and let’s go?”

I took the go-bag for her. She set to adjusting straps and settings on her armor as we left her dorm room behind.

“I don’t want to hurt your career,” I told Vista, adjusting the heavy bag’s strap, where I’d slung it over my shoulder. “I know Narwhal’s tough—”

“Narwhal is tough in the same way Rachel Lindt is gruff. You’re understating things.”

“And Breakthrough’s… very much not Narwhal’s style, I think.”

“Agreed,” Vista said.

“If I had to guess Tristan’s intentions, he wanted to protect you, figuring it’d be better to hurt Breakthrough’s standing than to hurt yours.”

“Yeah, well, that’s just him.”

“…And I think if I quizzed the rest of Breakthrough and asked them about the situation, they’d agree. Sveta and Kenzie would agree we need our friends happy and healthy and successful more than we need Breakthrough to sail smoothly. If Tristan lied, I could see why.”

“Which doesn’t help us,” Vista said.

“No,” I agreed.

“I’ll—” Vista started.

We’d rounded a corner, stepping into a new hallway. My mom and Crystal were there, in earshot. No Aunt Sarah.

Vista didn’t finish her thought.

“I don’t know where the situation room is,” Crystal told us. “We were called.”

“Me too,” I said.

I saw my mother press her lips together. Inhaling, bracing.

Yeahhhhhh.

I’m with you there, Mom.

“This way, I’ll show you,” Vista said. “And I’ll take my bag. Thanks for carrying it.”

I handed it off to her, my injuries twinging with the extension of my arm, the weird angle, and the weight.

The stairway up to the command center stabbed upwards at a diagonal through the complex, set up so it could be locked off, forcing a circuitous navigation.

For sieges. And to keep prisoners like Cauldron’s old victims trapped within for longer, should an escape attempt happen.